look who's back: pinkus has bloomed

pinkus has bloomed, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

look who's back: pinkus

pinkus is back, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

On the occasion of covering itself in a new cloth of leaves and soon to bloom flowers, my adorable adored resident bougainvillea has been baptised pinkus. Long live indeed!

frangipani, my love

frangipani, my love, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Many times have I seen photos of this flower without knowing its name (frangipani/ plumeria/ lei flower/ etc.), but never have I imagined it smelled as amazing as it looked, regardless of variety. Viet Nam sure came with bonuses.

I learned it is called frangipani last night, when my love was watching a documentary about Israel. I didn't try to see it, though it's brilliant and I will get back to it one day, but happened in front of the screen when the flower was shown and the name—pronounced.

That was the third Israel related event yesterday, a rare occurrence. Going to a soirée for upcoming jewellery designers, I met Israeli Yaffa, a sweet crazy lady that a). recommended me a Lebanese (!) movie, Caramel (Sukkar banat), which I'll see ASAP and b) chose, of all my many Moo cards the one picturing Herzliyya beach at sunset (close to Tel Aviv), unknowingly.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. If you're one waiting for those holiday stories, whether you pulled my sleeve yet or not, know they're on the way. The process is slowed, however, by having to process more than a thousand good photos and, honestly, working and living.

Then again, you haven't heard much of last autumn's holiday in Stromboli yet, have you?

new arrival: bright pink kalanchoe

bright pink, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Last year my love sent his mother, Gill, a lovely basket of flowering plants (and sweets?) for Mother's Day. One of those proved to be an energetic Kalanchoe that recently sent one offspring back to our balcony (arms?). May it keep breeding, I wanna paint the whole flat pink!

secret envy: street corner snapdragon

street corner snapdragon, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Thirty seconds away from my flat lives this amazing snapdragon, in a tiny, tiny yard of heavily chained gates, where people keep their motorbikes. I noticed it about this time last year, when its size was perhaps half what it is today, and even tried to steal it one evening—I was amazed it popped out there and I thought I would save it. To prove me wrong, it came back this year bigger, brighter, stronger, and I'm content to admire it every other day on its street corner of choice.

tasty weeds: the promise of chilis

promise of chilis, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Catherine gave my love this chili plant last summer/ fall as a house warming gift. It was much smaller. In fact, at the same time, I received a basil plant, which you can now spot at the base of the chili bush, right next to the neverending chives (if you know how to pick them, they come back again and again).

Both have stagnated and almost died over the winter, and then the chili tree decided to reach the ceiling in the spring. Before our holiday I had to prune it severely and a great outcome is that now we finally see flowers, thus great hope for fruits. Hot with excitement we are, and very careful when moving around the plant. Whether it will get enough sun in London only time will tell.

The basil also grows, but slowly. Its tips were recently featured in a recent homemade bruschetta concoction I named Buddha Jumps Over the Wall. Why give an Italian dish a Chinese name? Because they share the same principle: all the best possible ingredients come together, and it takes two days to cook. In my case: tomatoes, onion, caper berries, garlic, anchovies, walnut-flavoured oil, olives and balsamico.

classic delights: getting slightly pink

slightly pink, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

My roses must read my blog. Why else would they come back to pink after that red start?

cute plant, joke potential: osteospermum

whatever they are/ osteospermum, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

I bought these babies last year because they were pink and pretty. Also, meant to survive the winter. They did, here's proof. Then, only yesterday did I find out their name, osteospermum, with the generous help of Mary and her mom.

Are they that? Because I really like other osteospermum (killing my tongue, this word, even the mental tongue) and maybe, just maybe I bought these last year because they reminded me of something. Subconsciously.

before UK, I thought slugs were snails without a home

On Monday, advising Angela to use gravel to keep slugs off her garden, she asked me: How do you deal with slugs on your balcony? I said: Why, they can't reach there, I've no issue.

On Tuesday I came to sit on my windowsill for the first smoke and saw a small slug on a plant. With considerable horror, I removed it and wondered whether it's too gross to Twitter about it.

On Wednesday, my love's mom was around, and since she's taught me about gravel, which cannot easily be employed on a balcony, I shared the story, admittedly worried and surprised.

It's the hosta, she said. They can smell that miles away. The thing must've traveled for days!

classic delights: my roses are on

opened first, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

They opened, yesterday even; no second of today was sunny, perhaps dry only, if lucky. The strong red contrasting the strong green puzzles me: didn't I buy pink roses last year? Delightful, anyway.

classic delights: there's hope for my roses

the first this year, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

The first bud seems to have fought the bugs and the lack of water well. I'm watching it closely.

around me: neighbour's roses

neighbour's roses, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

As expected, roses in full bloom welcomed us in London these days. Not ours, though.

crisp simplicity: daisy survived

early on, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

First flower to welcome us home, a giant daisy to prove it can survive the winter—as advertised by the old man selling them last year—and the various, greedy spring bugs. Great summer providings!

loves daffs: leaving behind all six of them

all six of them, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

The late dwarf daffodils have started showing up on the greener side of the balcony, too, but it is this pot that finally turns into a wonder... as we wave good-bye.

Update, May 21st 2008: dwarf were the flowers, yet not the stems. I checked them out yesterday evening, upon arrival, and I couldn't help notice that they grew almost as tall as our trees!

tasty weeds: bay buds

fresh cooking material, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Though I don't want to stop the bay tree from growing equally or encourage my love to do so, I hope to one day taste the flavour of its spring buds, which may as well melt in a dish. Luckily for the bay tree, it won't happen this year, as we're off soon.

loves daffs: even sneaky ones

sneaky, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Finally a white daffodil, yet again a dwarf. Showed up on the other side of the balcony the day we were leaving. The side of the balcony that I don't watch daily during my cigarette breaks. It is quite funny to still have daffodils turn up when out roses and daisies are getting ready to bloom. Also, I have the strange feeling that not all our tulips have said hello this far. Not sure I'll ever know, since we're only coming back to leave again, this time for long.

new arrival: stripy leaves get curly and named

curly hosta, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

My, they turn out bright for my sight, even on rainy day! And they're not just stripy, but curly, too. Also, baptised/ localised: hosta is the plant, and a very good future friend, I reckon. Thanks, Gill!

Later update: silly me! I grew up with hosta, but a different style, which I thought of as lilies. better, however, that my stripy curly leaves will also have flowers!

new arrival: stripy leaves unfold

stripy leaves unfold, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

Briefly shocked by the snow, the unknown stripy leaves are presently back on track, unfolding with each cigarette I smoke in their presence. They look like spring, and spring is priceless.

under attack: daisies

daisy under attack, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

God bless that old, old man at the Columbia Road Flower Market! He was right: I plant the daises once, they keep coming back each year. They're so determined, in fact, that new stems formed in the winter, before I'd seen the tip of the leaves of the daffodils anywhere. Not long after, flower buds showed up, but so did bugs of all sorts.

My daisies are under attack, and my bug spray worked some, but I could use a tougher weapon, especially now that the maple has its leaves out and I don't wanna see it catch something again. The sad thing is, my love's mom Gill recommended soap/ washing liquid foam on the leaves, which comes in handy and cheap, but I didn't get round to it.

highlight: gymnast daffodil

gymnast, originally uploaded by gorgeoux.

A new series of dwarf daffodils, albeit slightly bigger and more yellow is about to bloom on a side of the magical pot. The mix of rain, sleet, ice and snow witnessed these days, however, has stopped a bud in a strange position: is it gymnastics, is it ballet, and above all, is it safe?